


Never Seen A Man With So Much Dimension

by threeintelligentthoughts



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Coffee Shops, College, F/M, Fluff, Motorcycles, threeintelligentthoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23232787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeintelligentthoughts/pseuds/threeintelligentthoughts
Summary: The only thing I knew about him was his name. James.The professor didn’t initially call him by his name, but I assume he introduced himself to the professor at some point, and him and the professor interacted enough to tie the name to the face and address him by his name whenever he raised his hand during class.And he was here.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27
Collections: Three Intelligent Thoughts- Quarantine Collection





	Never Seen A Man With So Much Dimension

Oh, my god. I thought to myself. It can’t be him.

I sat at the counter of my favorite local coffee shop, waiting for my usual flat white macchiato to be called out. I sat at the same stool every Wednesday afternoon, the third one from the left on the counter against the window with the view of the constant traffic outside.

Some days, it felt like I spent hours staring at the passing cars until I could finally focus on whatever work I had to complete that day. Other times, I was able to tune out reality and accidentally spend hours in this coffee shop and not even realize it until it started getting dark outside.

The workers were slowly starting to recognize my face to the point where they would correctly guess my coffee order before I could utter a word. I’m waiting for the moment that they start remembering my name.

That would especially be surprising. Majority of the people in my classes don’t even know my name. Well, they think my name is Beatrice, which is technically the case. But I’ve absolutely despised that name and have for years.

If I were in my old school, it would’ve been so easy to absentmindedly mutter “Please, call me B” to my professors on the first day of class. That’s not necessarily the case in the university that I transferred to.

Before transferring, I was never necessarily overwhelmed on my first day of classes. I was part of a graduating high school class of 100 students and went college of classes no bigger than 50 on a campus that was only an hour drive away from home.

Now I’m in a university all the way across the state after changing my course of study. Every day, it felt like everyone and their mother was at this 12:30 p.m. creative writing course, which is essential for my degree, but unfortunately wasted whenever I end up daydreaming during lectures.

He occupies most of my daydreams. Every day, he walks into class at least 5 minutes late with a bookbag and his motorcycle helmet in tow.

He even showed up 5 minutes late to the first class of the semester, and I was too distracted in trying to get the class syllabus to load on my laptop to notice that he sat down in the desk next to me. I hope he didn’t notice my cheeks flush a subtle but tinted pink when I finally noticed him that day.

Every class after that, he still came in at least 5 minutes late, but instead opted for the seat right next to the door, as to not disrupt class.

I couldn’t explain how his plain existence riled me up. I’ve never made full on eye contact with this man, yet I could get lost in the dark sea that was his eyes.

Whenever he participates in class discussions, his deep voice almost lulls me into a peaceful slumber. I could hear him talk about anything and everything. I’d do anything to get lost in the inner workings of his soul.

His contributions to the discussion were always so thoughtful. He always had an opinion on everything and always felt confident enough to share it, whether it agreed or disagreed with the point the professor was trying to make.

He was always so open-minded when he introduced ideas that went against the professor’s point. He never treated it like an argument, but rather a discussion. And throughout the whole conversation, he always seemed so calm. It never seemed like a debate between the two, but rather a deep and insightful celebration of intellectual thought.

Sometimes, when he was writing what seemed to be like some lengthy and detailed notes during lecture, he’d push back his long, raven hair so that it didn’t get in his face to where he would have to pause his writing to fix it. 

Or in other instances, when he was particularly engaged in a discussion we were having, he would stare at the professor so intently, tapping the end of his pencil on the side of his face in deep thought. The professor never noticed, however, since he was usually sitting closer to the back of the classroom.

The only thing I knew about him was his name. James.

The professor didn’t initially call him by his name, but I assume he introduced himself to the professor at some point, and him and the professor interacted enough to tie the name to the face and address him by his name whenever he raised his hand during class.

And he was here. 

I had to do a double take whenever I mindlessly looked up from my phone, but I recognized his dark locks from anywhere, even if it was hidden underneath a ball cap.

This couldn’t be. This was supposed to be my place of solace. This coffee shop was a hefty drive from campus, and the only reason I knew about it was from my cousin who just graduated from here.

I always came here on the same day at the same time to give myself some space from campus and to have a sense of familiarity while I adjusted to this school. Seeing him here was like him stepping into my safety bubble, even if he was actually 4 feet away.  
What took me out of my trance was hearing my order being called out. I quickly walked up to the counter, got my order, and walked back to my seat, trying to draw as little attention to myself as possible. 

I didn’t let my eyes roam around as usual in fear of accidentally making eye contact with James while doing so. I had just opened up my laptop when I heard a gritty voice behind me.

“Um....Beatrice?”

My eyes darted around only to see James standing right next to my spot with a puzzled look on his face, a flat white macchiato in hand. I had never seen him up close, and there were so many small details that couldn’t be seen from across a lecture hall.

His dark eyebrows matched the intense sea that were his eyes, and were knitted together to paint a concerned look on his face. His facial hair was a shade dark enough to properly shape and chisel his face.

I even notice the small buckle on the front strap of his bookbag. People actually strapped the front of their bookbag?

I had to get out of it. I couldn’t just get lost in him without actually saying anything.

“Uh, um.. yeah,” I made a great start. “How did you know?”

“The barista called it out. We ordered the same thing. The one you have is mine.” James explained, his free hand gesturing to the hot beverage cooling down right next to my laptop.

“Oh,” I said, trying my best to hide how flustered I am. “So you also get a flat white macchiato too, James?”

I couldn’t help but notice the slight raise in James’s eyebrow when I called him by my name. Oh god, had I freaked him out? Did he know that I was Beatrice from his creative writing class? Or Beatrice, the weird girl who ran off with his order?

“Yeah, normally I just grab a black coffee and call it a day, but I can’t get enough of this stuff,” James said as he took me out of my own head. “Hey, you’re in my creative writing class, right?” 

I was awestruck at the thought of him knowing my entire existence.

“Yeah,” I chuckled nervously. I reached for James’s coffee, trying to prevent the whole situation from being awkward. “Here, it’s technically yours.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s the same thing anyway” James said, followed by a small laugh. 

James could probably tell that our interaction left me frazzled and gave me a small nod goodbye as he began to head towards the door. He didn’t go far until he stopped in his tracks and turned around. 

“I hope you know, my name is actually Bucky.” he said as he finally made his exit.

As the coffee shop door jingled and I settled back into my seat, I gazed out the window at Bucky as he sat on his motorcycle and grabbed his motorcycle helmet.

When I saw his head turn back at the coffee shop to look in my general direction. I almost freaked out knowing that we locked eyes from afar and he caught me staring.

But when I saw him turn back with a smug grin on his face, I knew one thing for sure: there was definitely something between me and Bucky.

**Author's Note:**

> hi welcome to the end of whatever this is hope u enjoyed the read title is from the song daydreamin by ariana grande bc i be daydreaming of mr james buchanan barnes in this household and thats on PERIODT see u guys next time with some more quality quarantine content xoxo gossip gorl -ninut


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